Page 67 of The Roommate Subtext

She wanted to say no. “Technically yes, but it’s complicated.” She grimaced. She hadn’t told Blake any of the specifics, and now didn’t seem like the time. “He’s got leverage. Breaking the contract …” She trailed off, then shook her head, throat tight. “It would be disastrous. For me and for Cora.”

Blake looked over at her, frowning. “Are you in trouble? Is he blackmailing you? Because if he is, Maggie, I’ll find a way—”

She shook her head, interrupting. “No, no, it’s not that.” Not really, anyway. “He’s paying me well. But it’s complicated. I appreciate your concern, really, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’m sorry.” Blake stroked his thumb across her back where his hand still rested. “If it’s any comfort, I’m taking a bunch of money from him tonight.”

Maggie smiled. “That is a comfort, thanks.”

“The contract,” he said as they reached their table. “It’s nothing unsavory, right?”

“No, just writing.” Maggie wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sleeping with the guy.”

“Oh, I would never think that.” He made a face. “You have much better taste than to sleep with Captain Spray-Tan.”

She laughed in surprise. “I like that. I might use that.”

He pulled out her chair for her. “Please do. But after he writes the check, not before, all right? The evening is still young.”

Maggie took her seat. “I promise.”

Fortunately, Chauvel was not at their table. Whoever had done the table assignments had seated them with much older donors, the kind who would likely be impressed by Blake’s youthful professionalism. And his good looks, Maggie thought, seeing a couple of older women looking his way and whispering together with mischievous smiles. Maggie liked them already. They went around the table with introductions, and Blake kept up with the girlfriend story, which immediately launched the rest of the table into conversations about how everyone had met their partners, all while they ate soup and salad and passed around the basket of rolls. Their “we were roommates” story got a lot of attention and interest, although Maggie was pretty sure none of these people had ever needed a roommate to pay the bills. Maybe that was some of the attraction; the quaintness of how the other half lives.

“You two make an adorable couple,” said an older man across from them, whose wife nodded approvingly. Maggie flicked through her memory. She was determined to remember everyone’s names tonight. And she was going to do it without writing notes on her palms. He was Benjamin, went by Benji, and she was Geraldine. Both retired.

“Any plans for the future?” Geraldine asked, leaning in with an inquisitive expression; but fortunately the dinners arrived and Maggie was spared.

“I got you the steak.” Blake gestured to her plate and spoke quietly enough that she was the only one who would hear. “Steak or chicken. I forgot to ask, so I guessed. Plus you said once that when an organization is paying, you should always take the most expensive option.”

Maggie nodded. He had been listening to her. She shouldn’t be surprised; he was always listening. “I don’t want to bankrupt PlantSeed, though.”

He shrugged. “The guests like a lavish experience so they can feel special.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Now tell me, young man.” It was Bertram who spoke up, and Maggie had remembered Bertram because he was next to Benji. If the two older men got up and changed seats, she’d be lost. Bertram had made his fortunes in something that sounded like an Industrial Revolution thing, but Maggie couldn’t remember. Railroads? Couldn’t be railroads. Probably not oil, either. Maybe steel? He was old enough to have been a steel magnate, probably, or to have inherited a steel fortune. He asked Blake how he liked PlantSeed as an organization. “And do you really think they’re making a difference?” he added, like he might be attending a benefit dinner for a company whose impacts were questionable. Maybe that was something rich old people did.

“I’m consistently impressed with this organization.” Blake was clearly telling the truth. “I’ve been passionate about plants since childhood, and I became passionate about civic activism while I was in college. A nonprofit that combines the two was a perfect match for me.” He beamed, getting more passionate as he spoke. “They prioritize the needs of the communities, taking the lead from the organizers who are already doing the work rather than coming in and attempting to implement their own structures and systems. It means that things look different everywhere, but it’s been a rewarding challenge for me to learn all these various systems. And, of course, to see what possible grants might help them along the way.” He gave Bertram a winning smile. “I have a presentation for you all after dinner so you can see some of our impact.”

Bertram nodded, still frowning, but that might be his default expression. “Excellent. I look forward to seeing it.”

Blake was good at this, Maggie thought again. She was happy enough to eat her steak and listen to him casually extol the virtues of PlantSeed, glad that the conversation had shifted away from their relationship. One of the other couples brought up a charity doing similar work to PlantSeed in New York, and Blake told them how Candace, the executive director, was in conversation about a partnership that could benefit both nonprofits. He knew a ton about the entire network. And Maggie had once thought that he was just planting community gardens. She’d been selling him short.

Dinner was followed by cheesecake, which nobody ever objected to, conversation ebbing and flowing pleasantly through several topics, then Blake touched her on the shoulder. “Time for me to get ready.” He gave her a tight grin.

She returned a dazzling smile that would hopefully communicate her confidence in him. “Knock ’em dead.”

He nodded, exhaled, then excused himself from the table.

“You’ve got yourself one of the good ones, there.” The comment came from Darlene, seated at Maggie’s elbow. She and her husband were younger than the rest of the donors at the table, probably only in their late forties compared to the elderly contingent.

Maggie watched Blake weave along the side of the room to where a stage had been set up. “Thank you.”

“I mean it. Smart, charming, civic-minded, committed to his community, easy on the eyes; he’s the whole package.” She nudged Maggie.

Maggie wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Was Darlene making a pass at Blake through Maggie? Darlene was here with her husband, for god’s sake. He was in conversation with an older man to his right, something about shipping lanes or similar.

Darlene must have seen Maggie floundering, because she smiled more gently. “Don’t lose that one, right? He’s a real catch.”